


Dance with the Devil

by Tedronai



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedronai/pseuds/Tedronai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Logain arrived with the winter.</i> A story exploring the character of Mazrim Taim, his relationship with Logain Ablar, and certain choices that were really not choices at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I understand that this is a controversial topic in the fandom and many people disagree with me, but I don't believe that Taim was a Darkfriend when he came to Caemlyn in the beginning of _Lord of Chaos_. I also don't think that the enmity between Taim and Logain was hate at first sight.

Logain arrived with the winter. Half-starved and freezing in clothes that had been more than sufficient for the weather as it had been when he had started his journey, he rode into the Black Tower on a stolen horse that was in an even worse condition than its rider. Unshaven, dirty and on the brink of collapsing, his commanding presence was still enough to make the soldiers on guard duty recognise that he was not an ordinary recruit come to learn channelling.

He was brought to the Palace, as the men called it, while Taim was giving last orders to Asha’man Gedwyn and Rochaid for their mission in Illian. Gedwyn scowled openly as the soldier barged in and saluted fist-to-heart. Rochaid merely observed, the ever-present sardonic smile on his lips. Taim ignored both and focused on the soldier, who didn’t quite manage to hide his discomfort under the undivided attention of the M’Hael.

“M’Hael, there is someone maybe you should see,” the soldier said.

Intrigued in spite of himself, Taim dismissed Gedwyn and Rochaid and nodded at the soldier. “Bring him in.”

On the first glance, Logain was hardly an impressive sight, worn as he was from his journey. A closer look, however, revealed that all the evident hardship had not broken him but instead forged him into something hard and enduring. Something Taim could use. If that steel could just be… directed. Reforged, perhaps, into a blade that would cut where Taim pointed. The fever-bright brown eyes regarded Taim with a steady, calculating look that held none of the deference a new recruit should be showing any full-ranked Asha’man, let alone the M’Hael himself.

The soldier noticed this as well. “You are in the presence of the M’Hael of the Black Tower,” he barked. “You will show proper respect.”

“That will be enough, Soldier,” Taim said and casually sliced through the weaves of Air that the soldier had woven to strike Logain across the shoulders. “Return to your post. Unless you would rather report yourself to Asha’man Marle for a lesson in discipline?”

The soldier blinked confusedly but didn’t waste time; without a word he saluted again and nearly scurried out. Taim had dismissed him from his mind before the door closed behind him. His attention was on Logain. He stood up and walked around the desk to close the distance between them. “I assume you know who I am,” he said. “Aside from my title.”

Broad shoulders twitched in something that might have been a shrug. “The rumour is all over the continent by now,” he said. “Mazrim Taim, training an army of channelling men for the Dragon Reborn. Not sure I fully believed it until now.” If he didn’t have much respect for the M’Hael, neither did his voice display much for the Dragon Reborn himself. Taim allowed a fleeting almost-smile to touch his lips. Perhaps this man could be worked with.

“Believe it or not,” Taim said wryly. “Do you have a name?”

Something that might have been a dark mix of bitterness and humour flashed in the man’s eyes. “Logain Ablar,” he said. “You may have heard of me.”

Taim arched his eyebrows in startled disbelief before he caught himself; only a second, then the thin almost-smile was back. “Logain? Risen from the grave to serve the real Dragon Reborn?” he enquired, voice fair dripping with sarcasm. Another man might have chuckled; not Taim. He merely held Logain’s gaze for a moment longer before continuing, “If you are him, so much the better. We can certainly use a man who doesn’t need to be taught everything from the beginning.”

The other man smiled wryly. “I’m sure we can find a way to convince you,” he said. “However…” He spread his hands and gestured at himself, his clothes filthy and dripping snow-melted water onto the floor.

“Of course,” Taim replied, with a frown. He raised his voice a fraction, weaving the flows that allowed his voice to penetrate through the wards that protected his office from outside ears. “Mishraile!” The door opened and a tall, young Dedicated appeared, saluting smartly. Taim gestured at Logain. “Get him cleaned up and see that he gets something to eat…” A quick, evaluating glance at the man, and he added, “Healing may be needed, too.” Mishraile saluted again and led Logain away.

 

Taim had Logain brought to him again, later. The man looked a lot better, if still a trifle pale. For a wonder, the black coat fit him perfectly, where ever had they found one big enough on such a short notice. The collar held neither of the pins yet, of course, but Taim was sure that would change quickly. _If_ the man truly was who he claimed to be. Taim realised that he didn’t really doubt, only an utter idiot would claim that name if it wasn’t his, but the claim did seem impossible. Logain had been gentled, and most rumours had him dead in the battle when the White Tower had divided. Yet, here the man stood, self-possessed enough for a king, watching Taim with a calm sort of wariness. There was nothing _gentle_ about Logain.

Taim tilted his head slightly and gestured at the chairs by the fireplace. “Sit,” he said, not quite an order, and took one of the chairs himself. He channelled Fire to heat the spiced wine in the pitcher on the table across the room, then Air to pour two cups and float the cups across the room. He picked up one of the cups and floated the other one towards Logain, who frowned at it before accepting it and taking a deliberately casual sip. Taim allowed himself a brief not-quite-a-smile before he brought his own cup to his lips. The wine was quite safe. The time might come when he would have to dispose of Logain, but as of yet he had no reason to, and he did nothing without a reason.

If Logain saw the almost-smile, he gave no indication. “Did you have a reason for summoning me,” he asked, “or were you just lonely?” There was a pointed pause before he added, “M’Hael.”

The absurdity of the joke helped smother the flare of anger and when Taim spoke, his voice reflected only amusement, dry as dust. “I was hoping to hear how come you’re no longer… gentled.”

Logain shrugged. “I was Healed.” As if that hadn’t been glaringly obvious. Taim arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. “An Accepted called Nynaeve al’Meara. She had apparently made some remarkable discoveries, her and Elayne Trakand. Nobody would actually tell me much, but neither did they bother hiding such things form me. I was, after all, harmless.” Try as he might for nonchalance, there was no mistaking the bitterness that shaded his voice and clouded his eyes at the last bit. “She was obsessed with Healing. Nynaeve. Couldn’t accept that something couldn’t be Healed. And she was given permission to… study me. And she Healed me. By accident; I don’t think she really intended to restore my ability. I was right where they wanted me, unable to channel…” A brief grimace. “They weren’t cruel enough to gentle me again. At least right away. They might have reached that decision eventually, though.”

“And so you escaped,” Taim concluded. “From a camp full of Aes Sedai. No small feat.”

“I had help.” There was no evasion in the other man’s voice or deep brown eyes, but he very clearly wasn’t going to name whoever had helped him. “They are not all monsters.”

Taim made a dismissive gesture. “They are as much monsters as we are.” Logain shot him a questioning look, but he ignored it, letting the man interpret the statement as he would. He changed the subject. “Now, we can’t exactly put you into a class with other new recruits. You probably know more about the Power than the Dedicated teaching them. But I’m sure there’s much I can teach you.”

Logain gave a small shrug and drained his cup. Without asking for permission, he channelled the pitcher of wine across the room to refill the cup. Taim arched an eyebrow but said nothing. Logain smiled thinly, then raised the pitcher questioningly. Taim gave a fraction of a nod and the other man filled his cup as well. Silence reigned for a while longer, during which time Taim studied his guest and Logain did his best to appear unaffected by the regard, trying to ignore Taim altogether. One did not just ignore Mazrim Taim, however, and after not too long Logain gave up the pretence. “It’s impressive,” he said at length. “To have built this…” He made a vague gesture around. “In such a short time.”

Taim inclined his head slightly as if accepting a compliment. “There’s still much to do,” he said. “And I need every man I can find to get ready in time for the Last Battle. Tarmon Gai’don is coming, Logain, and we may be running out of _time_.”

The other man looked thoughtful. “Yes,” he agreed finally. “I suppose it is.”

They talked for a while longer, of largely inconsequential things. Taim told Logain about the training and recruiting, Logain spoke of the situation in the lands he had travelled through on his way to the Black Tower, although of course Taim already knew most of what the other man had to tell. He couldn’t make Logain say much about the Aes Sedai he had been with, their numbers or the names of the people in charge. Stubbornness or some strange sense of loyalty for the allies of the woman who had Healed him? Either way, it mattered little; Taim could always find out what he needed to know from other sources.

When he at last dismissed Logain, it was late evening. “I will see you tomorrow for your first lesson,” he said. “Then we’ll find out exactly how much you know.”

 

* * *

 

The training grounds were cleared of snow, something the soldiers far enough in their studies to be trusted with the task did every morning before the first classes began. Taim stood at the edge of the slightly muddy clearing, watching as a group of seven men practised shields of Air. The young Dedicated teaching the class, Atal Mishraile, was throwing bolts of fire at the shields, testing their strength and focus. Many of the soldiers’ uniforms were already singed in places and one, an older fellow, had an angry red burn mark on his left cheek. Mishraile could be a vicious one when in the right mood, but careful enough to not cause any damage that was beyond repair to any student worth keeping. Those were good qualities in a man; perhaps Mishraile was due a chat regarding career advancement, especially now that al’Thor’s little operation in the south had effectively taken away everyone Taim could trust to get anything done.

“M’Hael,” a deep voice said behind him.

Taim turned to see Logain; how _had_ the man managed to sneak up on him like that? He looked too big to be moving so quietly. “Logain,” he said, not quite a greeting, more like an acknowledgement that he had noticed the man.

Logain came up to stand beside him, his attention seemingly on the soldiers. One of them failed to block a bolt of fire to his right shoulder, but managed to dodge it instead. Mishraile’s mouth twitched in a fleeting, cruel smirk before he launched another bolt at the poor fellow. This one the soldier blocked, which didn’t improve the Dedicated’s mood in the least. “How long have those men been training with the Power?” Logain asked.

“A week or two,” Taim replied casually. “The short one a bit longer. He’s slow to learn. Can’t see him making full Asha’man this side of Tarmon Gai’don.”

“A week or two.” Logain let out a low whistle. “You’re pushing them hard.”

Taim shrugged. “The Lord Dragon’s orders.” He glanced sideways at the other man - who, he noted again with mild annoyance, was somewhat taller than him. “I wasn’t kidding when I said we may be running out of time,” he added, a wry note to his voice.

Logain nodded grimly. “Do you lose many to the harsh pace?”

“Some.” There was something immensely satisfying about talking to an individual who instantly recognised the dangers but wasn’t intimidated by them. “A score burnt out. Perhaps twice that dead where they stood.” He paused for a moment, not exactly hesitating but wondering how the other man would react to the next part. “And some succumbed to the madness.”

If he had thought Logain’s expression was grim before, now it was doubly so. “Already?” he asked, but before Taim could reply, he added, “How many?”

“Ten so far, out of a total of five hundred men.” Taim watched the other man’s reaction; Logain considered the information for a while in silence, not completely unaffected by the thought of madness, but more determined than fearful.

Finally Logain nodded. “Could be worse, I suppose.”

That was certainly a unique way of putting it; pragmatic and to the point, without false bravado or trying to belittle the issue. Taim had to look away to hide the brief not-quite-a-smile that touched his lips. “It could be worse,” he agreed.

“And…” Logain continued, “I suppose you have a system in place, to deal with those who snap?”

“I do.” He didn’t have the chance to elaborate because then one of the soldiers let his shield drop just as Mishraile sent another bolt at him and it hit the soldier square in the chest. The poor man’s screams and startled shouts from the other soldiers filled the crisp morning air. Taim grimaced slightly as he watched Mishraile barking orders for everyone to calm down and be still while he set about to Heal the unfortunate student. His orders went largely unheeded, however, with the soldiers paying more attention to their burned-and-already-Healed fellow’s sobs. When Mishraile seized _saidin_ again, Taim decided to step in. “That will be enough,” he said, raising his voice only slightly but amplifying it with the Power to carry easily over the general confusion.

 The effect was instant; the soldiers fell into line faster than Taim would have even thought possible and stood at attention, even the injured one scrambled to his feet to take his place between two of his fellows. Mishraile whirled around to face Taim, beautiful face flushed with either embarrassment or anger, but he was no slower to salute than the soldiers. “M’Hael!” Then his gaze took in Logain at Taim’s side and a sullen look flashed in his sky-blue eyes. Perhaps the idea of promotion had been slightly premature…

“Class dismissed,” Taim said to the soldiers, who didn’t need to be told twice to get lost. Sparing barely a glance at the men scurrying away, Taim addressed Mishraile. “You’ve met Logain, of course. I need to assess his skills. You’ll do for training target.”

Logain gave him an alarmed look. “You sure that’s wise?”

If looks could kill, Logain Ablar would have been a dead man; Mishraile’s glare was frankly murderous. But, Taim noted with some satisfaction, the young Dedicated had enough sense to keep his mouth shut for once in his life. “Quite,” Taim replied dryly. “I don’t mean you should try to kill each other. Just give me a demonstration. Go on,” he added when Logain still didn’t seem convinced. “You won’t hurt him without some real effort. Mishraile here is more than just a pretty face.”

That earned a grin from the former false Dragon. “Very well then, sir.”

 Mishraile was among the strongest Dedicated currently in the Black Tower, rivalling many full-ranked Asha’man, and for some reason had always been exceptionally good at defensive weaves. Even so, Logain’s attacks soon had him working harder than he probably had since coming to the Black Tower. Logain was simply stronger; even if he wasn’t using his full strength, he was using more than Mishraile could safely hold. Taim suspected that Logain was probably as strong as he was himself. The thought wasn’t a comfortable one; so far, only al’Thor himself had surpassed Taim in sheer strength in the One Power.

Logain gradually increased the intensity of his attacks, and Taim noted with mild amusement that as he did so, he began to aim slightly off, so that if by accident any given attack landed through Mishraile’s defences, the damage caused wouldn’t be extensive. That was surprising in a man of Logain’s reputation. Surprising, and surprisingly intriguing. Taim realised he was looking forward to seeing Logain in real action.

Mishraile, unsurprisingly, tired first; he had after all been channelling already for half the morning and Logain had truly given him a run for his money. “That will do,” Taim said finally, again amplifying his voice to carry over the sounds of the duel. Logain ceased his attacks immediately, but held on to _saidin_ for a moment longer, watching the young Dedicated warily. But Mishraile was too spent to exact petty revenge; wavering on his feet, he merely released the Source and wiped sweat-plastered golden hair from his face before saluting.

 

“So,” Logain said once they were alone again, walking through the snowy streets of the Black Tower. “Did I pass?”

Taim ignored the wry amusement in the other man’s voice; it wasn’t a tone he would normally have put up with from a new recruit, but Logain obviously wasn’t your average new recruit. No, Logain was special and potentially worth bending a couple of rules for. He made a dismissive gesture and said, “It wasn’t about passing or failing. It was simply to find out what you’re capable of.”

“You won’t.” The tone in which the words were said was so matter-of-fact that Taim wasn’t sure at first that he’d heard right, and before he could think of anything to say, Logain went on, “Not until you find a real battle to test my skills in. I’m _good_ at killing, Taim. I’m _good_ at destruction. Just ask the Aes Sedai; I killed several of them before they captured me. You don’t want to play with me.”

 _Worth bending a couple of rules for…_ “Was that a threat?” Taim asked softly, glancing sideways at the other man walking beside him.

Logain stopped walking and rounded on him. “Do I have a reason to threaten you?”

Taim stopped as well, tilting his head slightly to look Logain in the eye and replied, “I don’t know. You tell me.” When Logain didn’t answer for a few moments, Taim continued walking, briefly laying his hand on the other man’s shoulder as he brushed past him. “Pity you didn’t show up until now, though. I must admit I would have liked to see you in action.”

It took a few moments longer until Logain hurried to catch up with him again. “Have the Asha’man seen many battles already, then?” he asked.

“Have you heard of what happened at Dumai’s Wells?” Taim asked in turn. Logain shook his head. Taim opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of a bell striking the hour. He grimaced. “I have appointments to keep, and we need to have someone fill you in on the daily routines, anyway.” He gestured at a Dedicated who didn’t seem to be going about anything too important, a fellow whose blunt face was set in a perpetually surly expression. “Coteren here will show you around and answer any questions you might have about life in the Black Tower. I’ll see you for dinner and we’ll talk more then.”

“Very well,” Logain said, wry amusement and curiosity tinging his voice. Somewhat belatedly he added, “M’Hael,” as Coteren gave him an ugly glare. Logain didn’t seem in the least concerned about the possible consequences of breaching the etiquette and even less so - if that was possible - about what the Dedicated thought of him. That might become a problem unless Taim promoted him on the spot to spare him from having to try to be civil towards the Dedicated who technically held a higher rank than him. No, he decided; he would promote Logain when he saw him again in the evening. For now, the man would just have to try and not get into too much trouble with his behaviour.

With a final warning glare at the two men - he wasn’t entirely sure whether he meant it for Logain or Coteren, probably both - Taim took his leave.

 

* * *

 

The dinner was set in the dining room of Taim’s private apartment in the Palace. A small, mischievous part of him that Taim hadn’t known even existed wanted to light the room with candles just to see the look on Logain’s face… But he decided that the amusement wasn’t worth potentially scaring the man away or otherwise giving him the wrong idea.

Logain arrived promptly at the appointed hour. He took a look around the room, glanced at the immaculately set dinner table, before settling his attention on Taim. The brown eyes sparkled with amusement. “Should I have brought flowers?”

Taim almost laughed at that. Almost. Then he saw that the door was only just closing behind Logain - and knew that the Dedicated who had escorted him had heard the comment. Rage burned away the amusement and he had to focus to relax his hands which wanted to curl into fists. “I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless,” he said dryly once he could be sure he could keep the anger from his voice; it wasn’t, after all, aimed at Logain. Logain, of course, noticed that _something_ went on beneath the surface and his demeanour turned wary. Taim mentally cursed the curious idiot - whoever it was; he almost hoped he’d never find out because he wasn’t sure what he might do - to the Pit of Doom. He gestured at the table. “Sit.”

Logain did as told and the dinner commenced in silence. After a while, however, Logain seemed to decide that there was no impending disaster lurking just around the corner, and spoke again. “So what exactly _did_ happen at Dumai’s Wells?” he asked between pieces of steak. “I’ve heard rumours, each wilder than the last, but most were focused on the Lord Dragon, Aiel and Aes Sedai. The Asha’man were there, too?”

“The Asha’man,” Taim began with a slight grimace, “won the battle for him.” There was no need to elaborate on the ‘him’; Taim could see that Logain knew exactly whom he meant. He picked up his wineglass and swirled dark red liquid for a moment before bringing the glass to his lips. “And as for what happened,” he continued once he set the glass down again. “We rescued the Lord Dragon, who had _somehow_ managed to get himself captured by Aes Sedai. We killed more Aiel than I’d known even existed.”

“Sounds… messy,” Logain said. Despite the carefully neutral tone of his voice, Taim could see that he knew exactly how messy a full-scale battle with the One Power could get. Logain had, after all, fought battles with the Power himself.

Taim nodded. “It was,” he agreed. “And pointless. Aiel were killing Aiel - what do we care? We could have got al’Thor out of there without anyone the wiser. But the Lord Dragon wanted to see what the Asha’man were capable of…” He gave a small, eloquent shrug and watched Logain’s expression darken. “For many of the men it was the first battle of any kind they had ever seen. Of course they need to get used to it, I know that. But something of smaller scale might have been a better way to do the first blooding, something… cleaner.”

That earned a snort from Logain. “No such thing as a _clean_ battle,” he said.

Taim gave him a wry look. “Yes, I’ve seen enough battles to be aware of that, in case you forgot,” he said. “But everything is relative. And that particular… battle… was butchery, mindless, messy butchery.”

A moment of silence. Then, “Surprised you’d care.” It was not a question, but a searching look accompanied the words.

Taim allowed himself a thin almost-smile. “I don’t. Not in any personal sense,” he replied. “But I’d rather not lose men to mental trauma when I already have the taint and training accidents to worry about.”

It was impossible to tell whether Logain was impressed in the least, but eventually he nodded. “Men…” he said after a while, choosing a tangent. “Many of the lads can barely be called that. The barrack I was housed in, Light, I felt _old_ in that company.”

“That may not be entirely because of age, you know,” Taim said before he could think; he wasn’t yet thirty himself but there were days when he felt ancient. He instantly cursed the wine for loosening his tongue - the comment was somewhat more personal than he had intended - but the startled look that passed across Logain’s face was immensely satisfying and the following look of recognition even more so. Of course Logain would know exactly what he was talking about.

“Yes. I suppose you have a point.”

 

The conversation ground to a halt there. Taim made a couple of halfhearted attempts at reviving it throughout the rest of the evening, but Logain clearly wasn’t in the mood, and neither was he, especially after a few more glasses of wine.

When Logain stood to leave, Taim remembered that he had been planning to promote him. “Wait,” he said as he searched his pockets for the silver Sword pin he was sure he had there somewhere. He found it after a moment and walked over to Logain, who gave him a questioning look with an edge of wariness. Taim almost-smiled as he leaned in slightly to attach the the pin onto the high collar of Logain’s black coat. This close he caught the faint scent of soap on the other man, the wine in his breath. Taim was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the sheer size of him; there weren’t many people at the Black Tower taller than Taim, but Logain was, and more broad-shouldered besides, radiating gruff masculinity and physical competence.

Taim took a step back, drew a slightly unsteady breath. Logain was watching him with an unreadable look. “Dedicated, to what, precisely?” the other man said after a while, not really a question.

“To the Black Tower,” Taim replied nonetheless, almost surprised to hear that his voice was perfectly steady. “Without the Black Tower, we are just a group of men on the path to becoming potentially the greatest disaster since the Breaking, and amnesty or no amnesty, the White Tower will always loom over us like a noose just waiting to settle around our necks…” He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. He was satisfied and not a little relieved to see that Logain was listening attentively; whatever had just happened was clearly put aside already. Taim continued, “The Black Tower is… greater than the sum of its parts, more than the stone wall surrounding the compound. A symbol. The Black Tower can stand up to the White Tower and fight for its right to exist. The Black Tower is strength not only in numbers but through unity, order, _discipline_ , and strong leadership.”

“You mean the Lord Dragon, of course.” Logain’s voice was carefully bland, carefully not making the sentence sound like a question.

 _The Lord Dragon hasn’t set foot into the Black Tower in months. The Lord Dragon doesn’t care what goes on here, as long as I send men to fight for him when he so requires._ But Taim didn’t say that out loud. “The Lord Dragon, of course,” he repeated.

Logain fixed him with a long, hard look, but in the end decided not to challenge his words. “Good night, Taim.”

 

Taim stared at the door for a while after it had closed behind Logain. He felt drunk, and it had only a little to do with the amount of wine he had consumed. He had a feeling that working with Logain wasn’t going to be easy; Logain wasn’t afraid of him. That could be inconvenient… But on the other hand, it was also extremely refreshing. There was something immensely satisfying about being able to talk to someone he might even consider his intellectual equal. This was not the case with most of the rabble that found their way to the Black Tower, not by a long shot. The best of them were good at following orders, but conversation? Not a chance. Logain, however… _Logain_.

Logain knew about leadership, Logain knew about battle, Logain had no reason to love the Aes Sedai and Logain didn’t seem eager to run off to polish al’Thor’s boots. Logain was exactly what Taim hadn’t known he needed. _If_ Taim could play his cards right and make him into an ally, that is.

He returned to the sitting room, planning to pen a couple of letters before going to sleep. He was surprised to see that, according to the clock on the mantelpiece, it was past midnight already. He took a step towards the writing desk at the other end of the room, then froze, breath catching in his throat. One of the wards he had set throughout his apartment to warn against intruders had gone off. Someone was in his bedroom.

Cold rage filled him. His apartment was restricted area; even the servants had strictly specified hours when they were allowed in to do the cleaning and it was not in the middle of the night. He seized _saidin_ and strode through the door. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded before his eyes took in the intruder.

Approximately of a height with Taim himself, the stranger was clad in a dark grey coat with lace at the cuffs. He had black hair, his features could have passed for a Saldaean. His eyes were hard, like cold, black gemstones, and his mouth was set in a small, contemptuous sneer. “I suggest you release the Source,” the stranger said, his accent definitely not that of a Saldaean.

Not inclined to follow a suggestion like that under circumstances like these, Taim crossed his arms across his chest. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked calmly, more so than he felt.

The stranger’s expression grew dark. “I said, release _saidin_ ,” he repeated sharply, and suddenly _saidin_ filled him, more than Taim would have imagined a man could hold unaided. A weave of Spirit and Fire took form before Taim’s eyes, and a fraction of a moment later the world exploded in pain. Taim clenched his teeth against a scream even as his knees folded and he landed hard on the floor. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pain was gone. “My name is Demandred,” the stranger said dispassionately. “And I suggest that you follow my suggestions in the future.”

Demandred. One of the Forsaken. After the showdown, Taim was ready to believe that. He pushed himself up to his knees, hesitated, darted a look at the man looking down at him - both literally and figuratively - then stood up all the way. He couldn’t be sure but he thought something like approval flickered in the black eyes as he straightened to face the Forsaken. “Very well,” he said, spreading his hands in a gesture more careless than he felt. “What does the…” He caught himself just short of saying ‘the Dark One’. “…the Lord of the Dark want with me?”

The black eyes glimmered dangerously, but otherwise the man’s expression never changed. “The Great Lord could use the services of someone like you,” Demandred said.

Taim resisted the urge to shrug; there was a fine line between pride and idiocy, and while he wasn’t currently entirely sure where the line stood, he was fairly sure he didn’t want to cross it. “How much choice do I have?” he asked.

“That depends entirely on how much you value your life,” Demandred replied. The Forsaken didn’t wait for him to think of an answer, however. “I suggest you think about that and have your mind made up by the time I return.”

“How long do I have?” Taim managed.

“Do you think I’m going to tell you exactly when I will be coming back, so that you can set up some pathetic trap? Perhaps have al’Thor here waiting for me?” The sneer was audible in the Forsaken’s voice even though his face showed nothing. “Not that either would save you if you even thought of betraying me. No.” He shook his head sharply. “Just have your answer ready.” Then he was gone.

Taim closed his eyes briefly, for a moment afraid he might faint. Then he staggered across the room to the wash stand and leaned over the ceramic basin, fighting the urge to be sick, while the room spun dizzily around him. Once he was relatively sure that his dinner was going to stay where it was supposed to, he sank to the floor and rubbed at his temples with shaking hands. His choices were not really choices at all; he was not going to die for al’Thor when the man barely acknowledged his existence. But how long was he going to survive working for one of the Forsaken? How long was he going to survive if he did betray the Dragon Reborn?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and please consider taking a moment to tell me what you thought, it really means a lot to me. :)

Taim tried not to act as if anything had happened, but word spread quickly in the following days that the M'Hael's temper - mercurial at the best of times - was especially volatile and even those full-ranked Asha'man who had no reason to think that they had fallen out of favour were quick to get out of his way whenever they weren't required in his presence. Only Logain remained unaffected; he faced down the wrath of the M'Hael with barely a blink and then continued about his business like nothing had happened. This earned him something of a heroic status among some of the soldiers, especially younger ones who were terrified of Taim, and a 'difficult' reputation with the full-ranked Asha'man who couldn't match his composure.

And that latter part was going to be trouble sooner or later. Probably sooner, he realised as he noted Estevan Marle and Karys Dolan muttering to each other and casting downright murderous looks at Logain as the man was supervising a group of soldiers at the training grounds. Dolan would mutter but wouldn't do anything unless provoked, and even then there was the risk he might take Logain's mere existence as provocation. Marle, however… There was a reason he was tasked with dealing discipline to those who needed it. The man made Mishraile look good-natured and innocent, and he was good at inflicting pain. Taim had no doubt that Logain could hold his own against Marle, but he also had a feeling that the confrontation would be messy and would rather avoid it taking place at all. He would rather not lose either. Marle had his uses, and Logain…

 _And Logain._ Taim didn't finish the thought.

He walked over to where Logain was shouting instructions at the six soldiers, who seemed to be busy piling rocks on top of one another with weaves of Air. The result was a rickety-looking tower of rocks currently as high as a man's chest. " _Watch_ the flaming weaves, Vinchova!" Logain shouted, and a young soldier winced guiltily. "The others' too, not just your own, or you're going to keep colliding and-"

The youth, Vinchova, made a wobbly attempt at placing the rock on top of the tower, but misjudged the point of balance, toppling the whole thing over. His fellows jumped out of the way to avoid the falling rocks - some shouting curses, some laughing - not a one thinking to use the Power for the purpose. Logain sighed. "I suppose I should have told you to also keep an eye out for the rocks already in place," he said wryly. Vinchova looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him - and then he noticed Taim and colour drained from his face. Logain went on, "Right, it's not the end of the world - we still have a year or two before that if we're lucky…" When this failed to elicit the laughs he no doubt had been hoping for, he finally glanced over his shoulder and saw Taim. He grimaced slightly and turned back to his students. "Let's try that again…"

The soldiers set to work on the lesson again. Logain watched closely for a while, then half turned to Taim, so that he could still keep an eye on the students. "You're scaring my students," he said conversationally.

 _Your students, now?_ Taim flashed a razor-thin almost-smile. "I should hope so," he replied, his voice dry as dust.

Logain gave him a look that seemed - unimpressed? _disapproving_? - before turning his attention back to the men on the field before them. "You're not sleeping," he said after a while, still in that casual tone.

Taim blinked, unsure he had heard him right. "I wasn't aware I was supposed to be," he replied, the slightest rising intonation turning the sentence into a question.

"I didn't mean right now, obviously." There was no mistaking the amusement in Logain's voice. Amusement, and… wariness? Taim said nothing. Logain continued, "I know the signs, trust me."

Trust Logain? For a moment - an absurd, ludicrous, thankfully fleeting moment - Taim was tempted. _A Forsaken visited me, Logain. He wanted me to swear allegiance to the Shadow. How am I_ supposed _to deal with something like that?_ Out loud he just said, "I'm sleeping enough." Less than two hours a night for the past four nights, ever since the encounter with Demandred. He put all the sarcasm he could muster into his voice as he added, "I appreciate your concern."

Logain, ignoring the sarcasm with infuriating ease, simply nodded. "You're welcome."

Taim shot him a dark glare, which went completely unnoticed because Logain's attention was on his students again. "A word with you in my study once you're finished here," he said, sharply but not loud enough for anyone to hear who wasn't supposed to, before stalking away.

* * *

The words on the paper before him blurred, transformed into unintelligible combinations of letters and syllables. Taim blinked and shook his head sharply. The text shifted back into focus. He reached for the glass on the corner of the desk, remembered that it contained water instead of wine, and withdrew his hand with a grimace. Exhausted as he was, he didn't dare risk drinking alcohol on top of it. He had never been one to enjoy the feeling of drunken stupor like some people seemed to; he despised the loss of control and people who deliberately sought such a state. But that didn't change the fact that he would have killed for a glass of decent Altaran red right then.

He suddenly realised that the knock on the door was the third one already; he had spaced out through the first two. "Enter," he called, raising his voice slightly. The door opened and a nervous-looking Mishraile - how was Mishraile _again_ on this particular guard duty? Taim needed to have a word with whoever dealt the shifts - entered and saluted fist-to-heart.

"It's Logain, M'Hael," the beautiful young man said. "He insists that you're expecting him and refuses to go away. Shall I tell him to…" He trailed off helplessly; obviously, he had already tried to tell Logain to get lost, without success.

Taim waved his hand in an impatient gesture. "Send him in," he said curtly.

Something hostile flashed in the sky-blue eyes, quickly concealed as the Dedicated saluted again. "Yes, M'Hael."

Taim was still frowning after Mishraile when Logain strode in moments later. He hoped Mishraile wasn't slipping; the boy had some talent, more than most, and so far had seemed like someone who could follow orders without needing his hand held. In the absence of Gedwyn and Rochaid, and to a lesser extent Torval and Kisman, such men were getting harder to find.

"You wanted to see me," Logain said, the omission of Taim's title too casual to be anything but deliberate.

With some effort, Taim focused his mind back to the matter at hand and looked up to the man towering over the desk. Why did he _have_ to be so bloody _tall_? No, that was not important; concentrate. "Yes," he said. He picked a small object from one of the warded boxes on the desk and handed it to Logain.

Logain turned the golden Dragon pin in his hands, inspecting it with a slight frown. "Already?" He seemed perfectly aware that there had to be something else behind the sudden promotion than his undoubtedly more than sufficient skill level. And he seemed to be fully expecting Taim to explain. Taim didn't. After a while he shrugged and attached the pin onto his collar. "Goldilocks outside won't be happy," he said wryly.

 _Mishraile?_ Taim arched his eyebrows in surprise; he could have named several people that he would have expected to be unhappy about Logain's promotion, but… Mishraile? "What makes you think that?"

Logain shrugged. "Call it a hunch. Was there something else..?"

Taim was sure there had been something else he had wanted to talk to Logain about, but couldn't remember what, so he shook his head. "No, you may go." There were two dozen other things that needed doing… Light, he wanted a drink.

Logain made a move towards the door, hesitated, turned back and said, "I suggest you get some sleep tonight."

Taim didn't hear whatever he said after that. Instead of Logain, he suddenly saw Demandred standing before him - _I suggest you follow my suggestions in the future_ \- and al'Thor's words what seemed like a lifetime ago rang in his ears. _One of the Forsaken might try to slip in among the students._

"Taim?"

How did he know Logain was actually Logain? If the real Logain _had_ died in the fighting when the White Tower was divided and someone else had taken his place, who would know the difference? Who could claim to have known the former false Dragon well enough? Who would have cared to know?

"Taim!"

He shook his head sharply, blinking. The figure leaning towards him over the desk blurred, shifted back into focus. _Logain._ Taim stared, knowing he should say something, acutely aware that he had to look like he was out of his mind, which in the context of a male channeller could lead to a rather drastic reaction… But his mind was blank. The alarmed look in the brown eyes - brown, not black - was too raw to be feigned. He finally found his voice. "You're Logain." _No, that wasn't a clever thing to say- Come on, Taim; think-_

"The last I checked, yes," Logain replied warily. "And you need to pull yourself together. I don't know what happened, and I suppose you're not going to tell me, but you of all people can't afford to start acting crazy."

"I know." He nearly winced at the sound of his own voice, unsteady and dull with exhaustion. Logain reached across the desk and laid a hand on his shoulder and channelled. A shudder ran through Taim, but most of the exhaustion lifted, leaving his mind clearer than it had felt all day. He looked up at Logain, who withdrew his hand and crossed his arms across his chest.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you about the dangers of that," the Asha'man said. Taim didn't grace the comment with a reply; he was the one who had taught the weave to Logain. If he didn't get some real rest soon, he was going to collapse when the effect faded. Logain clearly saw what he was thinking, and nodded grimly. "I seem to recall you saying something about strong leadership. Better start delivering, Taim, or someone else will, and at that point you'd best pray it's me."

Taim gave him a withering look; nobody else would possibly _dare_ … Unless they had outside help. It suddenly occurred to him that he probably wasn't the only one in the Black Tower dealing with the Shadow; in fact it was quite likely that there were a number of Darkfriends among the five hundred men. "I'm counting on you," he said dryly. Exasperation and irritation flashed in Logain's eyes as he turned away and took his leave, but Taim actually wasn't entirely joking. The idea of someone like Marle or Dolan, or even Charl Gedwyn, who was more competent than most, in charge of the Black Tower, of _his_ Black Tower, was disgusting. But Logain might not do too bad a job of it. Not that he was ever going to get the chance. But purely hypothetically speaking… No, Logain might not do too bad at all.

* * *

The heavy snowfall of the past night ensured that the soldiers all had plenty of work once dawn began to break. Taim stood by the window in his study, watching a small group clearing out the Assembly Grounds under Logain's supervision. All of the soldiers were those who had instantly gravitated to Logain and looked up to him; the young Evin Vinchova, even younger Saml al'Seen, Jonneth Dowtry, Arlen Nalaam, Androl Genhald. The last one wielded a shovel where the rest of them were working with the Power; Genhald could barely channel a trickle and was worse than useless except for his Talent for Travelling. Taim had never seen the sort; the weave for Travelling required a considerable amount of _saidin_ and someone as weak as Genhald shouldn't have been able to form the weave, let alone open a gateway an inch in diameter… Yet the man's gateways not only worked but were larger than any other Asha'man could make unaided, Taim himself included.

As Taim watched, Nalaam suddenly picked up a handful of snow and threw it at Vinchova, who didn't notice it in time to deflect the snowball. Vinchova's response - a snowball flung back at the grinning Nalaam - triggered a full-blown snow fight that even Genhald joined after a moment of shaking his head in exasperation. It went on for a while until Genhald managed to duck a snowball thrown by Nalaam - which then smacked square into Logain's shoulder. Logain, who hadn't really been paying attention up until that point, took a step closer and the soldiers shrunk back, embarrassment clear on their faces even at the distance. In his study, Taim allowed himself a thin almost-smile, waiting for the showdown with more than a little curiosity.

It never came. Or, at least not quite the way Taim had expected. Logain simply scooped up a load of snow with a weave of Air and dumped it unceremoniously over Nalaam's head, much to the amusement of the rest of the soldiers. Soon the snow fight was going again, this time with Logain and Genhald teamed up against the others.

For some reason that he couldn't begin to explain, the sight made Taim want to break something.

* * *

It was late evening, nearing midnight, almost a week after the visit from Demandred. Taim was reading the latest report from Gedwyn; al'Thor and his army were moving deeper into Altara, chasing the Seanchan, capturing whatever of those _damane_ they could alive, and… His gaze fell on a word a couple of lines down. There had been an assassination attempt on al'Thor? Frankly, Taim was surprised there weren't more of those on a regular basis…

Suddenly he became aware of someone in the room. He folded the letter and set it aside with no particular hurry before looking up to face the Forsaken. "I've been expecting you," he said.

A dangerous glimmer appeared in the black eyes. "I hope for your sake that that means you're going to take my offer," Demandred said, voice quiet but hard.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Taim stood up and approached the Forsaken, carefully avoiding sudden movements that might be misinterpreted. It took a considerable amount of restraint to keep from reaching for _saidin_. A couple of paces before the Forsaken he stopped and went down on one knee, bowing his head for good measure. That, and to hide his expression. "How may I serve the Great Lord?"

For a moment there was silence. Taim could feel the Forsaken's eyes on him. Then Demandred spoke, "For now, you are to keep operating as you have thus far. Keep an eye out for promising individuals who might be useful to the Great Lord's cause, and await orders." A brief pause. "I'm sure you have figured out that there are other Friends of the Dark in the Black Tower. Know that you are being watched."

"Of course," Taim murmured.

"You are not to make a direct move against al'Thor unless instructed to do so," Demandred continued. "But other than that… ' _Let the Lord of Chaos rule.'_ "

Silence descended again. After a while Taim raised his head to find the Forsaken gone. He frowned. There had been no _saidin_ channelled in the room. The Forsaken had some other way of Travelling - if it even was Travelling. Nothing to do about that, though; he would just have to learn to expect that Demandred might show up anywhere at any time without a warning. The thought was chilling. He returned to his desk and picked up Gedwyn's report again, but couldn't focus on the contents. He sat there staring blankly at the letter for a long time.

* * *

Taim should not have been surprised when Coteren turned out to be the first of the other Friends of the Dark in the Black Tower to reveal themselves to him. The Dedicated approached him a day after Demandred's visit, demanding promotion. He had been up for a promotion soon, anyway, but doing it this way did not sit well with Taim. He wasn't fully sure where he stood in the hierarchy of the Shadow, but the Black Tower was _his_ and he figured he couldn't be completely insignificant seeing as he had been recruited by Demandred himself. Nonetheless, he thought it better to err on the side of caution for the time being, and Coteren left his study wearing the Dragon pin and with a smug expression on his ugly face. Taim wanted to strangle him. With the Power; he didn't think the man knew that things such as soap existed and the idea of physical contact was repulsive.

Soon after Coteren had gone, there was a knock on the door again. Mishraile entered - _Mishraile again?_ \- looking slightly nervous. A soldier whose name Taim couldn't summon - presumably the original bearer of the message - was half hiding behind the Dedicated. "M'Hael?" Mishraile began. "There's been an incident at the training grounds. Logain-"

"Casualties?" Taim asked sharply. An _incident_ generally meant one of two things and both had been known to result in deaths.

"Two soldiers, M'Hael," the soldier provided. "The one who snapped, and one who got in the way."

Two dead from one soldier going mad. _Messy._ Taim pushed his chair back and stood up. _Too messy._ "Who was supervising?" he asked as he strode towards the door. "Logain?" Logain should have been able to take down one soldier without losing another in the process…

"Yes, M'Hael." The soldier fell in beside him, half a step behind. Mishraile did the same on his other side. "Asha'man Logain was in charge of the class but Asha'man Dolan and Coteren helped take down the… the unfortunate individual. Another soldier got in the way."

"Really," Taim said flatly. Unless the soldier was exceptionally strong or skilled, Logain wouldn't have needed the help, and neither Dolan nor Coteren had any reason to want to _help_ Logain.

The two bodies were laid in the snow at the edge of the training ground and covered. Logain stood to one side, listening to something Androl Genhald was saying; the Asha'man and the soldier alike wore a grim expression. Two more soldiers stood a bit further away, casting wide-eyed glances at their dead comrades. One of them seemed to have tears in his eyes. Taim scowled at the sight; he despised such open displays of emotion. Dolan, Coteren and Marle were standing in a cluster to the other side, and Taim noted with some alarm that Marle was holding Dolan shielded. The short, plain-faced Asha'man wore a tiny smile of anticipation.

Logain noticed the newcomers first and said something to Genhald, who stayed behind as he strode to meet them. "Taim-"

"It's _M'Hael_ to you, you son of a goat!" Mishraile interjected heatedly, glaring daggers at the taller man.

"And it's Asha'man Logain to you, Dedicated, since you're so keen on proper etiquette," Logain replied mildly. Deceptively so, Taim thought.

Taim silenced Mishraile's arguments with an impatient gesture; the young man snapped his mouth shut, but didn't quit glaring at Logain. Taim ignored him. "What _exactly_ happened and why is Dolan shielded?" he asked Logain. By now the others had noticed him, too, and Coteren was advancing rapidly with an ugly scowl on his face.

"Dolan hit Sergil and if that wasn't on purpose, I'm the Amyrlin Seat," Logain explained quickly in a low voice.

So, one of the dead soldiers was Sergil Namarov. The Kandori had been moderately strong in the One Power, and one of those who had taken to following Logain around like lost puppies. Taim suppressed a sigh. This had all the potential to get out of hands. "Who was the other casualty?"

"Aden Fell," Logain replied with a dark glare at Coteren. "…Might we speak in private, M'Hael?"

 _Aden Fell. Light, another one of Logain's puppies._ Taim nodded curtly. "Coteren, go back to keep an eye on Dolan. I'll hear your report _later_. Mishraile, clear the crowd and take the bodies away." The two obeyed without a word - and in the case of Coteren, also without a salute, which was something Taim was going to have to address, also later - and Taim wove a ward against listeners around Logain and himself. He fixed a sharp stare at the taller man. "Well?"

Logain went straight to the point. "There would have been _no_ casualties if not for Dolan," he said. "No fight at least, that is," he added with a grimace. "I suppose Aden would have had to be… Anyway. He wasn't acting violent, he just went… blank, sort of. It was under control, or would have been if Dolan hadn't scared him. He would have gone peacefully and I could have shielded him and then…"

"And Namarov?" Taim asked.

Logain shook his head sharply. "They were friends. He tried to get through to Aden. Pointless, at that point. Blood and ashes, Taim, you really allow people like Dolan and Marle and that slimy son of a goat go unchecked?"

 _Slimy son of a goat_ seemed like a surprisingly apt description of Coteren; Taim snorted softly, amused despite the impending disaster. The response earned a fierce scowl from Logain, but Taim cut off whatever the other man had been about to say with a gesture. "You presume a lot for someone who's been here for barely a week," he said coolly.

"I do?" Logain snarled. "How about you tell me what the misunderstanding here is because I see a dead soldier who could be alive if not for a pair of murderous maniacs all too eager to use their shiny destructive weaves."

 _I see a deliberate attempt to goad you into doing something stupid because those 'murderous maniacs' feel that your existence threatens their position._ Out loud, however, Taim just said, "We can talk about this later. Now, there's Dolan to deal with; I seem to recall you accusing him of murder. I would advise you tone it down to simply overly reckless use of the Power; you're never going to prove he did it on purpose."

Logain looked like he wanted to strangle something - maybe Dolan, possibly Taim himself - his jaw clenched and his hands twitched as if yearning to curl around someone's throat in a crushing grip. Taim faced him down with more calm than he felt; not that he was afraid of Logain, but a direct confrontation in public would be a disaster he couldn't afford right now. Not ever, if he had his choice. Finally Logain nodded stiffly. "Very well."

Taim let the ward drop and without another word started towards where Coteren and Marle had Dolan under guard, Logain following a step behind him. Marle still wore the little smirk; the man's obvious enthusiasm at the prospect of dealing punishment sometimes made Taim wonder if he was entirely sane. Then again, it didn't matter as long as he remained controllable. There was madness, and then there was madness; some people weren't quite right in the head even before they started channelling. Coteren glared openly at Logain, and Dolan licked his lips nervously as he saw Taim approaching.

"Take him to the interrogation chamber," Taim said.

Marle's smirk widened into something that was almost a grin and a cruel gleam lit up the pale grey eyes. For him, the fun part was about to begin.

* * *

The interrogation chamber was deep underground, below the Palace, a bare room of dark grey stone, chilly and damp. It was only there that Dolan seemed to realise that he was really going to be punished; he started thrashing and trying to break through the shield, but to no avail. He was approximately on par with Coteren - who now held the shield - in strength and breaking through a shield that was already in place was very difficult unless you were significantly stronger than the one holding the shield. Flows of Air from Marle - neatly wrapped and tied off - held the prisoner still in the centre of the room.

Logain, the only one in the small group who had never been to the room before or seen Marle in action, looked around warily but said nothing. Mishraile didn't bother hiding his sneer at the other man's obvious unease. The prospect of witnessing torture didn't faze the beautiful young man, as long as he wasn't the subject. Coteren simply scowled at everything and nothing in particular, and Marle had only eyes for his victim. "Interrogation or punishment, M'Hael?" the short Asha'man fairly purred.

"Doesn't seem that there is much to interrogate," Taim replied. "An Asha'man should be able to control himself enough to not kill people by _accident_." He shot a sideways glance at Logain, who didn't look back. The Asha'man was focused on Dolan, his expression unreadable. Taim nodded at Marle. "Go on."

Screams filled the room almost before Marle set to work; Dolan had seen this done before and knew what to expect, even if he didn't quite anticipate how much it would hurt. Just seeing the weaves never gave quite the full impression even if you know the theory behind how they worked. Taim thought he had some idea of what it felt like, now; Marle's weave was slightly different from what Demandred had used, as far as Taim could remember it, but the base was the same. He thought Demandred's might be more efficient - and it certainly made sense that the Forsaken would have the greater knowledge of such things - but it was difficult to tell without more precise knowledge of the workings of the brain than Taim had. It didn't matter; what Marle was doing seemed effective enough.

After a while Taim decided he'd seen enough; watching Marle at work lost its morbid fascination after a while, and he had other things to do. "Carry on," he said to Marle, trying to ignore the growing flush of delight on the Asha'man's face. "Just make sure he'll be… functional… again tomorrow."

"Yes, M'Hael," the man replied, a touch breathlessly.

Logain and Mishraile followed Taim out to the hallway. "Blood and ashes, Taim," Logain muttered as they walked, "Marle is at least as crazy as Aden was, and worse kind of crazy if you ask me!"

"I _don't_ recall asking you," Taim replied coolly. He hoped Logain would let it lie; he knew Mishraile was listening to every word and he didn't want to be explaining himself before the Dedicated.

Logain, of course, did no such thing. "I don't think you realise how-"

Taim's temper flared and for once he gave it free rein. He seized _saidin_ and rounded on Logain, slamming him against the wall with flows of Air and pinning him there. He felt Mishraile seize the Power as well, and a shield sprung into existence, cutting Logain off the Source. Taim leaned in close and spoke in a voice taut with rage, "I don't think _you_ realise, _Logain_ …" The man stared back with tightly leashed anger in his eyes. The complete lack of fear had a sobering effect and Taim stepped back, forcibly reining in his own anger. "When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it."

Logain frowned and his expression closed up. "Understood, _M'Hael_." He spat the title like a curse, but his voice was steady. Steady and thoroughly disgusted.

Taim resisted the sudden urge to punch the wall. Or Logain. He wasn't entirely sure which. He turned away, clasping his hands behind his back, and let the weaves still holding Logain dissolve. "You may release the shield," he said to Mishraile, who obeyed and fell in beside the M'Hael as he started walking again. The young man looked like he was trying hard not to grin openly, sapphire eyes shining with sudden good cheer; he really did seem to have something against Logain. Taim tried to ignore it, as well as the sinking feeling that he had made a mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the rest of the fic was supposed to be one chapter, but it was getting ridiculously long (besides taking ridiculously long, too) and so I decided to chop it and post the first part already. I'm also totally not cheating at NaNoWriMo and counting this fic's progress into my word count, as well. Sigh.
> 
> That said, my eternal gratitude and love and appreciation to those of you who are still with me here despite the massive gap between chapters.

Taim listened to the report in silence. There was no need to ask clarifying questions; Charl Gedwyn knew what was relevant and what was not and how to present the relevant information in a clear and concise manner. The young man seemed to have aged several years in the past two weeks; his face was drawn and the look in his grey eyes even harder than Taim remembered. Even his second-in-command, Manel Rochaid, seemed to have lost his perpetual smirk and wore a haunted expression as he listened to Gedwyn relate the details of their mission. That made Taim wonder; they had both been at Dumai's Wells. Could the operation against the Seanchan have been that much worse? Of course, it had gone on for longer.

"The prisoners," he said when Gedwyn was finished. "Where are they now?" Al'Thor had sent over thirty Seanchan women back with Gedwyn, Rochaid and the rest of the Asha'man - twenty-nine of those who called themselves _sul'dam_ and five _damane_ , the leashed channellers. Except that the _sul'dam_ were currently leashed as well, of course.

"One of the new barracks that wasn't yet occupied," Gedwyn replied. "We thought it better to get them out of sight. I left Torval, Kisman and a bunch of Dedicated guarding them…" He hesitated before adding, "Kajima showed up as we were taking the women there, with an Asha'man I didn't know. Big fellow, authoritative, called himself Logain..?"

Taim schooled his face into expressionlessness. "It is Logain," he said. "Did he have something to say about the arrangement?"

"Nothing specific," Gedwyn said with a slight frown. "He wanted to make sure the prisoners weren't being… _mistreated_ is the word he used." There was contempt in his voice as he uttered the word, and this finally elicited a smirk from his second-in-command. "He stayed with Torval and Kisman when we left to make our report, but… To the best of my knowledge both myself and Rochaid outrank him and could have told him to mind his own bloody business if he had tried to make trouble." There was the slightest hint of a question in that last part; the young officer clearly didn't know what to make of Logain Ablar.

In theory, the man was right, of course. Whether telling Logain to _mind his own bloody business_ would have had the desired effect was another matter entirely. Taim was glad Logain hadn't given them an excuse to try their luck. "Let the Seanchan stay where they are for now," he said at length. "Get Coteren to arrange sufficient guard. And," he added as if an afterthought, "send Logain to me."

Gedwyn saluted and marched out, Rochaid at his heels like a shadow. Taim wondered briefly whether he should assign one of their rooms to someone else; all Asha'man save Logain had their own quarters in the Palace, but he doubted these two ever slept apart.

It didn't take long before the Dedicated standing guard outside - _Mishraile again?_ \- announced Logain, who didn't wait for permission to enter. The tall man pushed past Mishraile, who stared at him for a second with such righteous fury that it would have been amusing had the situation not been so potentially volatile. Still ignored by Logain, the Dedicated seized _saidin_ , but before he could do anything, Taim spoke. "That will be enough, Mishraile."

The young man froze, first going pale, then red with either anger or embarrassment, likely both. "Yes, M'Hael," he breathed and, with a precise salute, backed out of the room. The door closed behind him with somewhat more force than necessary.

Dismissing Mishraile from his mind, Taim looked up at Logain. The Asha'man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, seemingly at ease, looking back at Taim with a carefully blank expression. Taim noted that he had taken to wearing a sword at his belt. Somehow that, even more than the near-open hostility the man had displayed since the Dolan incident, made Taim realise that he could no longer afford to see Logain as a potential ally. He wondered if there had ever been any chance of that. No matter. Another thing he couldn't afford was regret. He had chosen his course.

"I've been given to understand that you're concerned with the welfare of the Seanchan prisoners," Taim said when it became apparent that Logain was not going to speak first.

"They're women, Taim," Logain said flatly. "Guarded by men, many of whom haven't seen a woman in months. I'm sure I don't need to tell you about the risks there."

Taim arched an eyebrow. "You think so little of my men's discipline?" he asked, dry as dust.

"Do I need to answer that?" Logain made no effort at hiding his contempt, whether it was aimed at the Asha'man in question or Taim himself.

Taim chose to ignore the the tone - for now. "The Lord Dragon has… strong opinions about _mistreating_ women. The men know better than to _mistreat_ the Lord Dragon's prisoners. Any other pressing concerns?"

"Androl Genhald," Logain said.

 _Genhald._ The Taraboner who could barely channel a trickle and initially only while holding a piece of leather; of all the ridiculous blocks Taim had ever heard of, that had to be one of the strangest. "What about him?" he asked.

Logain seemed to know that he was pushing his luck, but went on anyway. "He deserves to be promoted to Dedicated," he said. "He's been here quite a while and has made great progress with his channelling."

"You mean he can actually light a candle now?" Taim asked, not bothering to moderate his tone. "The man is useless for anything but transportation. The Asha'man are weapons, Logain. He'll never reach the strength required of the Dedicated."

"So raw strength is all that matters?" Logain countered, raising his voice slightly, probably unaware that he was doing so. "Certainly explains why Coteren got promoted, I don't think that one ever had two thoughts to call his own."

Taim made himself release _saidin_ \- he wasn't entirely sure when he had seized it - and let the half-formed weaves of Spirit and Fire dissolve. He couldn't afford to let himself be provoked like that. "Coteren is not your problem," he said curtly. "And neither is Genhald. This conversation is over. Get out."

Logain went.

* * *

"How many?" Taim asked.

"My scouts have located over forty," Logain replied, and Canler nodded in confirmation. "Could be as many as fifty or sixty. They're riding spread out in small groups." There were snorts and even chuckles at that; Rochaid's ever-present smirk widened momentarily into a grin and even the stone-faced Gedwyn shook his head in amazement. The White Tower would send _fifty or sixty_ Aes Sedai to deal with the Black Tower? The idea was laughable.

"What do you want us to do, M'Hael?" Marle asked. His smile was cruel and his eyes shone with an eager light.

"Disposing of fifty Aes Sedai will be quick enough," Coteren added, earning a contemptuous sneer from Marle. _Killing_ the Aes Sedai was not what Marle had had in mind at all.

Logain and Gedwyn both opened their mouths to speak, but Taim raised his hand, silencing both, although Logain looked like he might argue anyway. "The Lord Dragon wants the Aes Sedai taken alive," he said. "Anyone who kills an Aes Sedai will end up in the Traitor's Tree. He has made that clear enough." Marle's expression brightened at that and the smirk he directed at Coteren was triumphant.

"Take them alive and then what?" Logain asked. "It will require a lot of manpower to keep sixty Aes Sedai under sufficient guard for any longer period of time."

Taim had to admit that Logain had a point. Nonetheless, killing half a hundred Aes Sedai wouldn't remain secret, and Taim couldn't afford to draw al'Thor's attention with something like that, not yet. The Great Lord's orders had been to sow chaos, however… "The Lord Dragon wants them alive. Bond them, if you must." At least that invention could be useful for something.

"Bond-?" Logain looked scandalised, and even Gedwyn and Marle seemed somewhat startled. Coteren scowled, but the expression was almost thoughtful rather than dissatisfied.

Taim shrugged. "It's hardly ideal," he admitted. "But the Lord Dragon's orders are very specific. No Aes Sedai is to die."

"If the Lord Dragon wants them alive, I'll assume he also wants them unharmed," Logain said. Taim had the feeling that the words were aimed at Marle. "Very well. I'll find fifty men who can be trusted with the responsibility." He wasn't asking for permission, a fact that didn't sit well with some of the men present. Gedwyn looked like he was going to argue, glanced at Taim, decided to hold his peace.

Taim, however, simply nodded. "Be my guest." This way, perhaps, any repercussions would fall on Logain and his favourites - Taim didn't imagine al'Thor would be particularly pleased with the Asha'man forcefully bonding Aes Sedai, either, even if it was preferable to killing them. However, the fact that Logain thought he could find fifty men he considered _trustworthy_ might be the beginning of a problem. He gestured for Gedwyn and Rochaid to stay when the others left.

"Have Logain watched," he ordered. "Discreetly. Who reports to him, who takes orders from him." He fixed the pair with a hard stare and repeated, " _Discreetly._ "

"Yes, M'Hael," Gedwyn replied, his words echoed by Rochaid. The latter couldn't quite hide his curiosity, but the former showed nothing. As the pair took their leave, Taim couldn't help but compare their unquestioning obedience to Logain's behaviour. People like Gedwyn and Rochaid were… convenient. Logain, however, would have been a formidable ally - and would be an equally formidable enemy. And that Taim would have preferred him as an ally had absolutely no relevance to the reality.

* * *

The sword on Logain's belt looked like it belonged there. The tall Asha'man carried the mundane weapon with the casual grace of someone who has been doing so for half his life, and instead of making Logain seem ordinary it somehow seemed to add to his impressive stature. Taim disliked swords - he hadn't been exaggerating much when he told al'Thor that he could barely avoid stabbing himself with one, and he didn't see mundane weapons as necessary for someone able to use the Power as a weapon. And for an Asha'man, who _was_ a weapon, to carry a sword was little short of degrading. It was like bringing them down to the level of ordinary soldiers.

Logain, however, defied this as he seemed to defy so many other rules simply by existing. There was nothing _ordinary_ or _mundane_ about Logain Ablar or the way he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, not as if he was planning on using it but simply as if he knew how, should the situation arise. The relaxed stance, so at odds with the sharp look in his eyes, almost felt like a challenge.

He handed over the document without a word. Taim accepted it and quickly skimmed through the list - the names of fifty-one Aes Sedai and the men who held their bonds. Not all of them were among the names Gedwyn had been able to gather so far, but Taim was sure they would be taking orders from Logain soon enough if they weren't already. Soldiers and Dedicated, not a single full-ranked Asha'man in the lot, although if he was completely honest, in some cases it was not a matter of competence. Not a single full-ranked Asha'man in the lot, except for… Taim frowned and looked up at Logain. "You bonded two," he said flatly, not really a question.

"I did," Logain replied.

Taim stared. Why would anyone choose to form that kind of a connection with anyone, especially an enemy? Surely Logain could have had someone bond those - he glanced down at the list - Toveine and Gabrelle. Was this a statement, like the sword? Statement of what, though? That Logain would go out of his way to ensure the safety of an Aes Sedai? Taim wasn't sure if he should have been surprised; Logain did seem to have an honourable streak despite everything. "Very well," Taim said and folded the parchment. "I trust I don't need to tell you that the Aes Sedai are to be kept out of sight. I don't want outsiders spreading rumours that we're holding Aes Sedai captive. At least not before the matter is cleared with the Lord Dragon."

"I could take the Aes Sedai to him right now if you'll tell me where to find him," Logain said, not quite managing to sound casual.

"No," Taim said sharply. "I'll deal with that when I make my report to the Lord Dragon. You just keep the Aes Sedai out of trouble." He couldn't let Logain run to al'Thor, not yet at least. The time would come when he would have to let Logain go; Logain wasn't the type to stand aside and watch quietly when he didn't agree with how things were run, and Taim's authority over him was tenuous at best. But for now that authority still held, and much of it came from the fact that Logain thought his actions sanctioned, if not even ordered, by the Lord Dragon himself.

Logain didn't look entirely convinced, but didn't press the matter. For now. "Out of _trouble_ ," he repeated with a grimace. "You do realise they're physically unable to disobey a direct order? If they get into trouble, it's because the _trouble_ couldn't keep away from _them_." His voice took on a dangerous edge. "It doesn't help that the men holding the bonds are soldiers and Dedicated, and the _trouble_ more often than not bears the Dragon pin and can pull rank on them."

Taim carefully kept his expression neutral, bordering on indifference. The Aes Sedai had been in the Black Tower for two days and their presence was already causing complications? He should have got rid of them when he had the chance; the attack was justification enough. "Does _trouble_ have a name?" he asked when it became clear that Logain wasn't going to offer the information out of his own initiative. It dawned on him, somewhat belatedly, that Logain likely wouldn't have brought the subject up at all if not for his order to keep the Aes Sedai out of trouble. Logain no longer expected him to take action against the troublemakers.

The look in Logain's eyes was so cold Taim was almost surprised he didn't feel a drop in the room temperature. "Coteren. Dolan. Marle." The Asha'man made no attempt to disguise the contempt in his voice. "Please don't tell me you're surprised."

Coteren and Dolan were not surprising, Marle somewhat more so, but then again it probably made sense for Marle to be where there was conflict. Taim ignored the remark. "And in what way have they been troubling your prisoners?"

"Make a wild guess," Logain snapped. "Aes Sedai or not, Taim, this is no way to treat women!"

"Those _women_ were prepared to kill us - or worse," Taim countered, barely noticing that he had raised his voice as well. "They gentled you once, Logain. Have you forgotten?" He saw his words take effect; Logain's hands clenched into fists and his expression turned to stone. Taim continued, " _That_ is what they were planning to do to us all. And you're trying to tell me they deserve to be treated with respect?"

"There's a difference between respect and simple human decency!" Logain was shouting by now but he didn't seem to care.

A knock on the door interrupted Taim from replying to that. He wove the weaves to penetrate through the wards against eavesdropping and called for the intruder to enter. Instead of the Dedicated on guard duty, Charl Gedwyn himself entered, for once without his ever-present shadow Rochaid. The officer saluted and eyed Logain warily - Logain returned the gaze coolly but made no move to exit the scene without a clear dismissal - then seemed to decide that his news wasn't classified.

"A message from Caemlyn, M'Hael," he said. "Elayne Trakand has arrived in the city and announced her claim to the Lion Throne." He hesitated for a second, and when he continued, there was a slight hint of a question in his voice. "She has taken down the Dragon Banners."

"Elayne Trakand?" Logain repeated with a sharp look at Gedwyn. "Morgase's girl?"

The shorter man glared back before pointedly ignoring him again. "Do you wish a message sent to the Lord Dragon, M'Hael?" he asked. "I could send Rochaid, or go myself-"

Taim silenced him with a gesture. "I'll make my report to the Lord Dragon in person," he said. "First, however, bring Coteren, Dolan and Marle to me…"

"Yes, M'Hael!"

Once Gedwyn was gone, Logain turned to Taim again with a hard stare. "You're actually going to do something about it," the Asha'man said. He made no effort to hide his mistrust, indeed, the guarded look was little short of openly hostile. He was not going to believe that Taim was punishing the offenders in the name of justice.

Taim gave him a razor-thin almost-smile. "It is inconvenient that my disciplinary expert is among the ones to be disciplined," he said wryly. Then he made an impatient gesture towards the door. "You may go. Unless you wish to assist..?"

Logain's expression turned to that of disgust. "I have better things to do." He turned around and stalked to the door, where he turned again and added, "I don't want to find any single one of those three anywhere near the Aes Sedai again." Then he was gone.

Taim watched the door slam shut behind Logain, the almost-smile turning into a grimace. Logain didn't trust him, never would and probably never had, and while it might make things easier, it wasn't necessary as long as Logain obeyed regardless. He would have to deal with Logain sooner or later, and while it would be easier if he could despise Logain like he despised the vast majority of mankind… It wasn't necessary. If Logain became an obstacle, Logain would die, and things like _regret_ just didn't enter the picture.

* * *

Taim stepped through the gateway into the hallway outside the Lord Dragon's quarters in the Sun Palace, Coteren and Mishraile following close behind. He would have preferred to bring someone else instead of Coteren to let the Asha'man know that he was still out of favour, but he suspected that leaving him in the Black Tower unsupervised would not have been a good idea. A brief interrogation had revealed that Coteren had been the main culprit in the incident with Logain the previous day; Dolan had simply followed like the mindless sheep he was and Marle hadn't really been involved, anyway. As for Mishraile, he was there because maybe the presence of another person would be enough to stop Coteren from doing anything stupid while Taim was meeting with al'Thor. Hopefully.

The six Aiel women guarding the door to Lord Dragon's apartment didn't so much jump at the sight of the three men as simply shifted into battle stance in a quick, smooth motion. All but one had veiled themselves, and the remaining one looked like she might do so at any moment. The unveiled one, a pale-eyed monster of a woman easily as tall as Taim himself, blocked their way to the door without ever seeming to move. Mishraile or Coteren seized _saidin_ , but Taim held up his hand in a warning gesture and he - whichever idiot it had been - released it again.

"I am here to see the Lord Dragon," Taim said.

The Aiel didn't speak, nor did they lower their veils. The eyes watching Taim and his companions above those veils were a study in hostility, cold and hard as steel. The unveiled one, never taking her eyes off Taim, made a minuscule gesture with one hand and, still without speaking, one of the others entered the Lord Dragon's apartment, silent as a shadow. She returned mere moments later and announced, "The _car'a'carn_ will see Mazrim Taim."

Mishraile made a move to follow but Taim held up his hand again, and the young man took a step back to stand in line with Coteren. Taim entered the room.

Rand al'Thor was lounging on the monstrous thing people called the Dragon Throne, the Laurel Crown of Illian upon his head, the strange Dragon Sceptre across his knees. The blue-grey eyes fixed on Taim with a look that made granite look soft. Fedwin Morr stood at attention next to the door and, across the room, the woman Min Farshaw sat with a thick book in her lap but her attention alternating between al'Thor and Taim.

"My Lord Dragon," Taim began with a minuscule bow.

"Why are you here, Taim?" al'Thor asked curtly, his voice deceptively mild.

Taim clasped his hands behind his back and schooled his face into an impassive mask. "News from Caemlyn, my Lord Dragon," he said. "Elayne Trakand has arrived in the city and stated her claim to the Lion Throne."

A startled expression flashed across the Dragon's face. "Elayne?" Then he frowned. "Her _claim_ to the throne? I thought I made it clear enough that the throne was to be hers! Besides, she's the lawful Queen of Andor by birth!"

Taim gave a small shrug. "She has also taken down the Dragon Banners in Caemlyn." He watched warily as al'Thor's expression turned to stone again. "That cannot be but a calculated slight," he continued when no further reaction seemed forthcoming. "Shall I… rectify the matter?"

"No!" al'Thor snapped. His hands clenched on the gilded armrests of the Dragon Throne and his eyes glared murder. "You will not go anywhere near Elayne Trakand!"

Taim arched an eyebrow. "And if she decides to have a problem with the Black Tower practically at her doorstep, once her hold of Caemlyn is secure?" he asked, trying to keep most of the contempt from his voice. He wasn't sure he succeeded. The way al'Thor's expression darkened suggested he'd failed.

"You just stay away from her, Taim!" the Dragon replied. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Absolutely."

"Was there something else?"

For a moment Taim considered whether he should tell him about Logain but decided against it. The captured Aes Sedai - he knew better than to make a mention of them. "No," he said. "Nothing else." He made a small bow and moved towards the door, but al'Thor's voice stopped him.

"Taim."

Taim froze; for one, absurd moment he feared al'Thor had somehow figured out that he was working with the Forsaken - who knew exactly what the Dragon Reborn could be capable of? - but he turned to face the young man calmly. "Yes, my Lord Dragon?"

"Send the _sul'dam_ and _damane_ to Caemlyn," al'Thor said. "Elayne will have Aes Sedai with her. They can take care of them."

"The Asha'man are perfectly capable of keeping prisoners," Taim replied, somewhat stiffly. Al'Thor would have him hand over the prisoners to the White Tower? After what the White Tower had done to him? "You would trust the Aes Sedai-"

Al'Thor cut him off. "Just do as I say, Taim, and let me worry about the Aes Sedai."

 _Yes, because that worked so well last time, didn't it?_ But he didn't say that out loud - as much as al'Thor infuriated him, he knew that an open confrontation had to be avoided at all costs. "As my Lord Dragon wishes," he muttered. "By your leave?" Barely waiting for the dismissal he turned again and strode out.

Mishraile and Coteren were exactly where he'd left them, thank the Light. The latter was scowling at the Aiel women and the former was looking anywhere but at them, looking slightly flustered. Taim arched an eyebrow at the young man, who blushed more deeply but otherwise kept his expression blank. The Aiel were as expressionless as ever, but Taim thought some of them still managed to appear… amused. "Is there a problem?" he asked, of nobody in particular.

"No, M'Hael," Coteren replied. Mishraile shook his head.

"Good," Taim said. "We're leaving."

* * *

The letter was waiting for him when he got back to the Black Tower. Short and not particularly courteous, it was signed by Elayne Trakand herself and contained a summons to Caemlyn to meet with her. Al'Thor's warning to stay away from her suddenly seemed all the more amusing; Taim could either disobey the Dragon Reborn or the woman who was in all likelihood the next Queen of Andor. Not that he had any particular interest in following al'Thor's restrictions on where he was or wasn't allowed to go. It was just… amusing. He read the summons again and frowned. He didn't much care for the tone of the letter, but he was curious about this woman who obviously had some significance to al'Thor - which was curious in itself because he was fairly sure the Farshaw woman was al'Thor's lover.

Another thing waiting for him was a folded note, sealed and warded. He picked it up cautiously, prodding at the ward with a delicate weave of Spirit. The best he could tell, the ward was meant to recognise the person who picked the note up and react accordingly. Taim could only assume that he was the intended recipient as it was placed on his desk - that, and the fact that it didn't burst into flames or something equally dramatic. The seal gave no indication of the sender's identity, but Taim had a good guess, if not for the exact identity then at least their affiliations. He broke the seal and unfolded the note to reveal a single sentence written inside. ' _Stay on the path you have chosen.'_

He arched an eyebrow at the phrasing; it was probably the best whoever had penned it had been able to come up with while including the word 'chosen'. But what was the actual message? Was it an order to keep doing what he had been doing for the past while - focusing his training on those of the students who were already Friends of the Dark and having them keep an eye out for promising candidates - or was it a prompt to start making more results? _Stay on the path…_ He snorted softly. As if he had any other choice at this point. No, he was in too deep to have any hope of getting out alive - if there ever had been any such possibility. Al'Thor wouldn't care what happened to him and certainly wouldn't intervene if he got into trouble with the Forsaken. The same applied in reverse as well; if al'Thor found out about his betrayal, he couldn't count on getting backup from his new masters. No, he was on his own - which was nothing new, really. But he had to admit that the stakes were higher than he could have ever dreamt of.

Why weren't the Forsaken getting rid of al'Thor, anyway? If they really were so eager to bring about the new world order under the Dark One's rule, surely killing the Dragon would be the simplest way to achieve it? Then again, al'Thor had killed a number of them already, leaving the rest… afraid? That sounded absurd; the Forsaken, afraid of that boy? But the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that the only reason al'Thor still lived was because the Forsaken - the mighty Chosen - were unwilling to risk their hides by going against him and too set in their scheming, backstabbing ways to combine their strength towards that end. And before too long, it seemed clear to Taim what he must do. The boldness - the sheer insanity - of it made him want to laugh. He didn't, of course. Instead he summoned Charl Gedwyn.

* * *

Much later, Taim sat behind his desk again. He had been sitting there for a while, the light he had channelled and tied in place had faded an hour or so ago, leaving the room completely dark. Despite the darkness, he almost thought he could still see the words on the document before him. He couldn't, really, but every letter, every single precise line was committed to his memory so that he almost believed he would still see them in his mind to his dying moment. Charl Gedwyn, Manel Rochaid, Raefar Kisman, Peral Torval, Corlan Dashiva, Damer Flinn, Jahar Narishma, Eben Hopwil. The first four were a failure, one he couldn't afford. The last three, perhaps something of a victory, but not nearly enough to balance out the loss of four of his most competent men. Dashiva - Light only knew.

A small, detached part of Taim's mind wondered if he should be afraid. He _had_ just failed an attempt to assassinate the Dragon Reborn.

Or rather four of his Asha'man had failed an attempt to assassinate the Dragon Reborn on his orders. He doubted anyone would appreciate the difference, himself least of all.

Gedwyn, Rochaid, Kisman, Torval. He'd told them to stay away from the Black Tower and await further orders somewhere out of sight - the idiots had not only failed but also managed to get seen and identified by al'Thor. He would have to cut them loose. The Traitors' List before him now bore their names, along with Dashiva's and those of the three other Asha'man who had been with al'Thor at the time. Taim wasn't sure what had happened with them, why al'Thor had sent them away - could he be insane already? Now _that_ would be suitably ironic. Whatever the truth, at least they weren't with al'Thor anymore, and that had to count for something. Taim would just have to find a way to turn the situation to his advantage - or if there was no advantage to be gained from this, at least make sure he wasn't the one to bear the consequences. If he couldn't do that, he might not live to make another mistake.

* * *

Coteren finished his report - yes, the _sul'dam_ and _damane_ had been taken to Caemlyn as ordered; no, they hadn't seen Elayne Trakand again - and Dolan picked up his part regarding the activities of the men who were known to take orders from Logain. Aside from reporting to Logain every morning, most of them weren't up to anything they weren't supposed to be; it seemed like Logain was content to just observe for the time being. Taim would have liked to know what exactly those men were reporting to Logain, but getting anyone within hearing range would have inevitably looked suspicious. Very well, if Logain wanted to play the vigilante, he was welcome to do so as long as intelligence gathering was all he was doing. It was not as if he was going to find out anything useful that way.

"Lady Elayne's visit tomorrow, M'Hael," Coteren said once Dolan was finished. "Will you show her around yourself or shall I take care of it?"

Taim gave him a sharp look; he didn't like the overly eager gleam in the ugly man's eyes. "I will meet with her, I suppose, but Marle and Farland can give her the tour," he said flatly. Coteren and Dolan had accompanied him to Caemlyn earlier to meet with her, and he didn't want either of them anywhere near her after the bizarre incident that had occurred in the throne room. He couldn't trust them to have the sense to withhold any crude comments their tiny brains might come up with, and the last thing Taim needed right now was to have them anger Elayne Trakand further.

"But, M'Hael-"

"Which part of what I just said was too complicated for you to understand?" Taim asked, his voice smooth like a honed blade.

Coteren directed an ugly glare somewhere in the general direction of his feet. "I was just-"

Taim's patience was at an end. The weave of Spirit and Fire formed almost as if on its own. Coteren's sentence was cut off and turned into a shriek of agony. Dolan gave an alarmed yelp and hastily sidestepped away as Coteren collapsed in a heap of twitching limbs. Taim watched, arms crossed, indifferent to the screams or Dolan's increasingly frantic expression as he looked from Coteren to Taim and back again.

It was then that the door opened and Mishraile entered - and stopped just short of stepping on Coteren. The Dedicated blinked, but other than that, his expression didn't change as he saluted. "M'Hael, Asha'man Altair has returned," he said, raising his voice to be heard over Coteren's screams.

Taim didn't release the weaves on Coteren as he nodded at Mishraile. "I will hear his report later." He turned to Dolan, who was still staring wide-eyed at Coteren. "Dolan, go inform Marle and Farland about tomorrow. Tell them to report to me in the morning, before Lady Elayne arrives."

Dolan saluted and scurried out. Mishraile remained, frowning down at Coteren. "You're killing him, M'Hael," the blond man noted. "Is that intentional?"

Taim blinked; Coteren had stopped screaming and lay on the floor, muscles spasming and twitching, eyes glazed and froth dripping from his mouth. Taim let the weave of Spirit and Fire dissolve, with no particular hurry. Coteren's death wouldn't be much of a loss and right now he wanted to murder someone - but killing someone who was _mostly_ capable of following orders just because he wanted to would be wasteful nonetheless. He looked at Mishraile, who didn't appear at all disturbed by the scene he had walked in on. "You caught the weave I used, I trust?" he asked, making his voice as casual as he could.

"Yes, M'Hael," Mishraile replied.

"Have someone clean this up," he nodded towards Coteren, "and tell Altair that I will hear his report in one hour. And as for you…" With Gedwyn, Rochaid, Kisman and Torval gone - out of the picture if not quite dead yet - and Coteren turning out to be a fool, Taim needed to find reliable replacements. Mishraile wasn't among the list of those trainees who already served the Great Lord, somewhat to Taim's surprise, but he was certain that it wouldn't take much to convince the young man to join the winning side. "I'll see you for a lesson after I'm done with Altair."

The way the young Dedicated's eyes lit up as he saluted confirmed it; it wouldn't take much at all to convert Mishraile.


End file.
